


love him well

by wildcard_47



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Francis Will Be Your Father Figure, It Okay Don't Be Cry, M/M, Repression Ahoy, guess who's coming to dinner, long-distance pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/pseuds/wildcard_47
Summary: A short fic inspired by a line inwhalersandsailors's "i knew it was love...":"I am mortified by my last days with you. It was not my intention to burden you with my concerns, and I detest how I collapsed before you that one evening."AKA: Edward has dinner with Francis and James in Brighton as he waits for news about Jopson's ship.





	love him well

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I knew it was love (and I felt it was glory)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603178) by [whalersandsailors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/pseuds/whalersandsailors). 



 

It was not until Lieutenant Little had stayed in their little cottage for several days yet that James Fitzjames finally recognized the true purpose of his visit. 

Francis—damn the man’s inability to gossip where it truly mattered—had explained the unexpected call away with various and sundry excuses whenever James had asked.  _ Oh, he’s just back from the South Indies and desires to see a friendly face. Wishes to take the air away from his sisters. Escaping an overbearing mother.  _ But none of these fictions had truly captured the purpose of such a visit, not till they had sat down to dinner one night and Edward, apropos of nothing, had cleared his throat.

“Have you heard word from the  _ Frontier,  _ sir?” A slight pause; Edward sawed determinedly at his chicken while speaking, as if awaiting a judge’s gavel and a formal decree at the end of this sentence. “Thought they were due back by now, even if she wintered two years in the ice.”

Frontier. Jopson’s ship.

With a silent look of petulant disbelief, James raised both eyebrows at Francis, who glared back at him before shaking his head, equally silent, and softening his countenance. “No, lad. I have not heard anything yet. But that is not so surprising, given the season. We will perhaps have news in a few months more, after the leads open up again.”

“Yes.” Edward’s gaze was still fixed on his plate; it was then James finally noticed the man had not consumed a single bit of his meal, merely sliced every offering into smaller and smaller pieces. “Course. That’s––reasonable.”

James was about to offer some small words of comfort, or perhaps ask a question, when the abrupt clank of silverware striking china struck him silent. And when he glanced across the table to see why this noise had been so great, he saw Edward was no longer attending to his food—had abandoned it entirely—had begun to weep into his hands. James did not think he had even seen Edward weep on the day they were saved, though that could be a fault of memory and not of feeling.

“Oh, no,” were the first words out of Francis’s mouth. 

James shooed Francis into a standing position; Francis seemed as bedeviled by this impassioned sight as was James himself, but finally managed to muster, and quickly rounded the table to lay a hand on Little’s arm.

“Edward?”

“I c-cannot bear it any longer,” sobbed Edward, one hand pressed to his mouth and nose, both eyes squeezed shut. Tears were sliding down his cheeks into his whiskers and down past his collar. “He must come back. He  _ must. _ ”

“They are well provisioned, lad.” Francis was clearly attempting to comfort the lad, although his words were less like fraternal encouragement and more like the sort of point you might voice before a formal gathering of the Admiralty. “With a good Captain at the helm.”

Edward wept even harder. “I know. I––I just––”

Without a word, James excused himself, pretending to attend to something important in the kitchen. He had just begun to eat small pieces of vegetables off a serving plate, standing right there at the counter and hoping his bad leg would ache less in a minute. After a little while, Francis’s voice floated through from the dining room, stronger and more impassioned than before.

“... and I did not think I could bear it another second. But I did, Edward, and so shall you. Think of Thomas’s character, hm? He is not a reckless man. He would not heedlessly throw himself in harm’s way.”

“No.” Edward let out a wet, snotty breath. “But any number of things could—could happen—and I just—miss him so much.”

“Of course you do.”

“Did you miss Captain Fitzjames? I mean, after we—”

“Well.” And Francis actually chuckled, low and rueful. “God knows that man has a talent for endearing himself to others. Anyone with two ears and a heart should like him enormously on first meeting, and love him well after only a fortnight.”

Edward made a plaintive, soft noise.

“But given that you have been so forthright to-night, I will be frank with you in turn.” A heavy sigh. Francis did not speak for several seconds. “Fitzjames and I—in truth, I did not understand how fortunate I was to have his company till it was almost too late. A fact which terrifies me to this day. Had we been unable to forge a friendship before the long walk, I do not know what I might have done. And now I cannot imagine life without him.” A long pause. “But I am certain you did not leave such matters unsettled with Thomas.”

“No, but he  _ promised _ he’d c-come back, and he  _ hasn’t,  _ and it—”

“Take heart in his words, Edward.” Another sigh. “You need not tell me anything more, nor will I pry it out of you. All I ask is that you keep faith, hm? The same way we did in the worst circumstances. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I—I'll try.”

Francis sounded like he was smiling, now. “Good. Good. Now. Are you still hungry, or would you rather retire for the evening?”

James waited in the kitchen as Edward begged off from dinner, citing a searing headache while still sniffing and swiping at his face with one sleeve. He waited still further as Edward bid Francis goodnight, and only reappeared in the doorway of the dining room only seconds after Edward’s heavy footsteps had trudged down the hall and up the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” Francis sighed when he met James’s knowing gaze. “If it is any consolation, I did not think he’d—”

James was not interested in explanations nor excuses, merely wanted to draw Francis into his arms, and so he did. Here, they stood unmoving for several seconds before James finally pulled back. “How I love you,” he murmured, and kissed Francis’s forehead.

Francis turned a blotchy pink.  _ “James.” _

“Well and always.”

The sigh this drew from Francis was at once fond and exasperated, but he did not release hold of James’s waist. “Stop eavesdropping from behind doors, you absolute menace.”

“Shan’t,” returned James, and tossed an errant grape toward Francis’s mouth. It bounced off Francis's jaw and fell into the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Got bitten by a plot bunny and had to write this. <3 
> 
> Poor Edward needs Jopson to come home; James and Francis need to be cute together for always, and the grapes just need to be eaten before James tosses them all into the floor. :)


End file.
